


Touch Starved

by LandonKade



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Worms, Couch Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Scars, Scottish Honeymoon, Tickling, episode 160, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandonKade/pseuds/LandonKade
Summary: Martin was just trying to make Jon more comfortable, but getting pulled onto the couch for a cuddle works, too.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 31
Kudos: 428





	Touch Starved

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was a trip. First attempt at a Magnus fic because I needed something fluffy after... Everything. I thoroughly hope everyone enjoys this. I love these boys, and I really hope I did them justice.

Jon had fallen asleep on the couch after lunch, a book splayed open across his chest. Martin didn't begrudge him. A lot had happened after they had escaped the Lonely. Martin still wasn't entirely sure how Jon had gotten them out, if he were honest. But he had. They were safe in Scotland. As safe as they could be, and Jon had earned a bit of rest now that they were settled. 

Carefully, Martin removed the book from Jon's loose grip and placed it on the coffee table, gingerly removing Jon’s glasses next, but Jon made a quiet noise in response, confused and sleepy, as his head lolled to the side on the armrest. For an instant, Martin thought he had gotten away with his theft, but then there was a flash of movement, and Martin had to fight not to yelp as he felt the front of his jumper get grabbed, trapped in Jon’s grip. Unsure what to do, Martin took a seat on the edge of the couch near Jon's knees and placed Jon’s glasses gently on top of his book. If nothing else, he had gotten those off, but now he had another problem to contend with. 

Hands fluttered around Jon's clenched fist for a moment while Martin tried to decide what to do, but Jon had relaxed into the couch and didn't seem to notice what he was doing. Martin didn’t know whether to be amused at the sight he made or concerned about his entrapment. In the end, Martin tried to loosen Jon's grip when it was clear Jon wasn't letting go on his own, whispering quietly into the air as he did. "Jon? Can you let go? Please?" Martin gave a resigned, but amused, sigh when there was no response, smiling down at Jon even as he continued his attempts toward freedom. 

After another couple of seconds of fiddling and trying to remove Jon's death grip from his collar that continued to prove futile, Jon finally opened his eyes and turned his head to glance up at Martin. Jon didn't seem fully coherent yet, but he did give a slight tilt of his head. "Mm... Martin? What are you doing?" 

"Being held hostage, I think?" Amused, Martin stroked his thumb across Jon's knuckles unconsciously. 

"Oh... Sorry." Begrudgingly, Jon let go of the abused jumper, still groggy as he reached up to run a hand through his hair. 

"You're fine, Jon," Martin was quick to reassure him, lips twitching into a smile.

"Then come here." Jon opened his arms to Martin then, his voice still riddled at the edges with sleep. When Martin didn't immediately move to cuddle him back, Jon shifted slightly on the couch, suddenly anxious at the idea that this might not be wanted and slowly beginning to realize that he had, in fact, demanded affection from Martin. "Please? If you... Want to? Ah, you don’t have to..." Jon pulled his arms back just slightly, still extended but only just.

Martin's want to comfort Jon, to reassure him he did indeed want the closeness, too, had him quickly lie down on top of Jon, though he tried to be careful. He didn't want to hurt him, and he was definitely heavier than Jon even if Jon had been eating better recently. Without thinking about it further, Martin slid his hands beneath the small of Jon's back, his head on Jon's chest as Jon wrapped his arms firmly around Martin's shoulders before he could become too nervous to manage the feat.

It took all of a few seconds for both of them to relax. Jon made a quiet noise under his breath and buried his nose in Martin's hair once Martin took a moment to adjust on top of him. Martin felt a hand delve into his hair a moment later, at which he proceeded to melt. If he had any plans to move once Jon drifted back to sleep, those were scattered to the wind now, so Martin made himself comfortable, more comfortable, and breathed Jon in as he allowed himself to nap, too. 

There was no telling how long they slept on that couch, and Martin only woke up once. It was just long enough to adjust until his legs were fully on the couch, slotted with Jon’s with his feet hanging off the armrest because he was just too tall, but it relieved the ache in his lower back to a degree. Drifting off again was a quick matter, and Martin didn’t come awake again until he felt hands petting his hair, carding from front to back. Martin made a pleased noise in response, still waking up and not quite at the point yet where he would be self conscious about the sound. Faintly, Martin heard Jon chuckle to himself, as though he didn’t want Martin to hear the sound. 

Tightening his grip around Jon’s waist, though, Martin settled his hands on Jon’s hips. Jon’s shirt must have ridden up at some point during their nap because Martin could feel warm skin under his hands. Jon gave off more body heat than Martin did. Whether that was due to the Lonely making Martin run colder now or if Martin had always run colder than Jon, Martin had no idea. What Martin did know was that he wasn’t complaining, and he allowed himself to gently stroke his thumbs against Jon’s skin. Instantly, Jon flinched, and his grip tightened, though Jon had enough thought not to pull on Martin’s hair. 

For his part, Martin stopped what he was doing, and both men tensed. “Sorry, sorry! Did I do something bad?” Martin could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to pinpoint what he might have done wrong. 

“N-no, no! It’s… It’s fine, Martin. You just surprised me.” Jon’s grip on his hair meant that Martin couldn’t look up to double check, but Martin trusted that Jon would tell him if he overstepped a line. 

“Can I keep touching? Or would you rather I didn’t do more than we were doing? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Jon.” 

“Y-you can. Keep touching, I mean. This has been… This has been nice… I’m just not accustomed to it yet.” Jon slowly released his grip on Martin’s hair, but he didn’t remove his hands completely. Instead, as if to rectify his flinching, Jon began carding his fingers through Martin’s hair again, which was more than enough after a few seconds of uncertainty for Martin to relax on top of Jon, which prompted Jon to relax, as well, thankfully. 

Faintly, Martin felt Jon kiss his hair. Their position made it slightly awkward, but Martin wasn’t going to complain. He pressed his face into Jon’s collarbone and breathed him in slowly. Hesitantly, Martin’s hands settled on warm skin again. While Jon paused what he was doing for a moment, taking a breath quietly, he continued playing in Martin’s hair rather quickly. Jon seemed determined to continue the affection, and Martin was glad for that. He had been touch-starved for such a long time, well before the Lonely and Peter Lukas had gotten a hold on him. 

The thought alone had Martin adjusting his position on top of Jon until he could press his face into Jon’s throat while his hands laid flat under Jon’s shirt to feel as much warmth and skin as he possibly could without either of them having to get up. Jon didn’t seem to mind. From Martin’s position, he could feel the vibration of a pleased hum escaping Jon before he nuzzled against the side of Martin’s face. 

Completely having lost track of how long they had been on the couch for and far too comfortable to look up to see whether or not there was light coming through the windows, Martin pressed gentle kisses to Jon’s throat, eliciting another happy hum that pleased Martin to no end. Jon’s fingers stilled in Martin’s hair, but one remained there while the other hand moved down to rub the back of Martin’s shoulders, thoroughly distracting Martin from his task for a few seconds before Martin returned to mapping out more of Jon’s throat with his lips and tightened his embrace around Jon. 

There was a scar, several scars, under Martin’s hand near his waist. They weren’t a surprise. Jon had gone through a lot in the time he had been the Archivist. Martin was rather certain these scars were Prentiss scars as he traced them with the tips of his fingers. Mostly round and littered across Jon’s skin. There was no flinch as Martin traced and counted each one, but the hand rubbing his back had stopped and was gripping the back of Martin’s jumper tightly, his body having gone tense.

Initially, Martin wondered at the reaction. He almost pulled away, afraid of bringing back bad memories or inciting a panic attack, but then he heard a quiet hiccuping sound escape above his head that caught him off guard. Martin could feel Jon squirm for an instant beneath him. The hiccup wasn’t the start of a sob, Martin was sure. Martin knew what that sounded like., so, curious, Martin traced another scar, then another. When he found the third one, Jon flinched and let out another hiccuping sound. The squirming started again while Jon tensed his body further. Realization dawned on Martin as he slowly removed his face from Jon’s throat and pushed himself up enough to look down at Jon without completely sitting up and removing his arms from around Jon in the process. 

The Archivist’s face was tinged red and his lips were pursed into a fine line, his face scrunched in on itself. Jon had been forced to remove his hands from Martin’s hair and back as Martin had pushed himself up to look at Jon, so they were gripping Martin’s shoulders now, instead. For Jon’s part, he was doing his best to relax his body again, but he didn’t seem to realize what kind of face he was making. 

There was no way. Absolutely no way... 

“Jon. Are you-?”

“No! I-I mean...” Jon seemed to realize how quickly his response had come, and Martin watched the red travel from his face and into his ears, down his throat. _“Martin.”_

Martin warned in a similar tone, though he wore a knowing grin, _“Jon.”_

“No!” Jon pouted, his grip tightening as Martin laughed at his response.

Martin leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jon’s jaw then. “Jon, I hate to tell you, but that’s adorable.” 

Jon grumbled and gave a little huff in Martin’s direction while Martin trailed more kisses from the Archivist’s jaw and up to his temple, his lips lingering there while Jon slowly relaxed. He still seemed to be pouting somewhat, his secret discovered, but he also seemed content not to push Martin away, his hands still clenching fistfuls of Martin’s jumper. 

That’s when Martin’s fingers, still precariously positioned against Jon’s skin, began to knead. 

Immediately, Jon gasped out a laugh he quickly tried and failed to muffle behind pursed lips. Jon’s hands went from grasping to shoving, but he was too busy squirming and trying not to laugh to realize his grip was still tight on Martin’s jumper. Martin couldn’t say he minded, as he was rather in awe of the reaction he was eliciting. Fascinated, he watched Jon wriggle and arch his back beneath him while his fingers kneaded and skittered up and down the expanse of Jon’s sides. 

Eventually, Jon did let go of Martin, but it was only in his attempts to turn onto his side to dislodge Martin while also allowing himself to bury his face against the couch to muffle the giggling that had turned his entire face bright red. The adjustment did muffle Jon, but it only barely inconvenienced Martin. Martin, however, wasn’t intending to make Jon suffer, so, after a few more long seconds, Martin sat back, his weight settling on his knees so he could continue avoiding crushing Jon, who was curled up with his arms wrapped around his middle and trying to get air back into his lungs. 

Just when Martin was starting to think he had broken Jon, Jon removed his face from the couch to glare weakly up at Martin, who had to force himself to keep a straight face. Martin very much failed, which made Jonathan Sims pout, of all things, which made Martin laugh harder. “I’m sorry?” He tried, but Jon didn’t seem placated. “I’ll make it up to you?” 

Jon gave a quiet sigh then as he rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s… It’s fine, Martin… Let’s just… never mention it again? Ever?” 

With a quiet snort, Martin leaned down to press his forehead against Jon’s after he had lowered his hands, his elbows braced on either side of Jon’s shoulders once he had turned onto his back again. It seemed like Jon made an attempt to continue looking put out, to his credit, but the effort didn’t last. Jon’s face softened, and Martin felt warmth bloom in his chest, wondering at how this situation could even be real. It was hard to tell if Jon understood the way Martin was feeling in that moment, but, even if he didn’t, Jon still reached up and wrapped his arms loosely around Martin’s neck. 

Martin took that as permission to lower himself to lie on top of Jon again, but he watched Jon’s face to be sure he wasn’t hurting him as he settled his weight. He just… really didn’t want to hurt him. Jon chose then to startle Martin out of his thoughts with a kiss. It was soft and light, and it didn’t last, but Jon brought his burn scarred hand down to gently cup Martin’s cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth against Martin’s cheek bone, and Martin could feel his heart swell. He wanted to cry in relief and happiness that this was real. That Jon Sims was here with him and returning his affections, but Martin knew there was time for that later.

Martin pressed his lips to Jon’s, instead, trying his best to pour everything he was feeling into that kiss. Jon reciprocated, and they spent time losing themselves in one another that way until they knew they had no choice but to leave the couch to find food.


End file.
